Palm South University: Season 3 Box Set

by Kandi Steiner

  I knew it.

  “MAYBE WE SHOULD just start,” Skyler suggests, her wary eyes on Jess as she waits for her to blow. We’ve all been waiting, the tension like a cloud of gnats hovering around us at the Friendsgiving table. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon. We can at least eat the sides while they’re hot.”

  Erin was supposed to be here already — with the missing turkey — and with both her and Ashlei missing in action coupled with the fact that Jess is only throwing this because her boyfriend cancelled her trip to see him, it’s not exactly a joyous occasion. I’m thankful Grayson is here with me, at least.

  Clinton scoffs, crossing his arms with a hard roll of his eyes. “Oh, right, because you always know what’s best, don’t you, Sky?”

  Skyler’s face crumples and my heart aches seeing my Big like that. She’s always so strong, so sure, but Clinton is her best friend. Their fight is taking a toll on her and we all know it.

  “Bear, please. I apologized. Can we just… can’t we have a nice meal?”

  Everyone watches Clinton carefully, like a bomb with three seconds left on the timer and a red wire about to be cut.

  After a moment, he picks up his fork, but before I can even let out a sigh of relief he grits his teeth and drops it back to the table again.

  “How the fuck are we supposed to have Thanksgiving without a goddamn turkey,” he growls as he stands, and without another look at any of us, he blows out the back door.

  My eyes find Skyler’s and I reach for her wrist, squeezing it gently.

  “He’s not mad about the turkey,” she explains on a sigh. “He’s just worried about his little brother and…”

  “It’s fine, Big,” I say, smiling sympathetically. “I agree, we should just eat.”

  “Yeah, who says you can’t make a meal out of green bean casserole?” Adam chimes in. “Challenge accepted.”

  My eyes find his then, silently thanking him. He just winks, reaching forward for the mashed potatoes and piling them on his plate to get things started. But when he tries to pass the dish to Skyler, she’s still staring at the door Clinton just left through.

  With a shake of her head, she drops her napkin onto her empty plate and pushes back from the table. “I’m sorry, I just need to check on him. I’ll be back.”

  Jess watches her leave with murderous eyes, and when the door swings shut again and it’s just the four of us — Jess, Adam, Grayson, and myself — the swarm of gnats buzzes even louder than before.

  Adam swallows, offering the dish across the table to me, instead, as Jess drops her head into her hands, kneading her temples.

  I take the dish from Adam, our fingers brushing just slightly. I can’t stop the flush that colors my cheeks. We haven’t had a chance to talk face to face since Halloween, not after Grayson asked me to cancel our study date, and I feel Adam’s eyes burning into me from across the table. There have always been way more questions in those eyes of his than I’ve ever had answers for.

  Jess’s phone buzzes on the table and I say a silent prayer that it’s Erin with news on the turkey, trying to keep spirits up until she can get here. But before I can even serve myself a scoop of mashed potatoes, Grayson’s chair scrapes against the floor as he stands.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, what now?!” Jess huffs.

  I pause with the bowl in my hands, looking up at Grayson as he glares at Adam across the table.

  “I can’t do this anymore, Cassie,” he says, and my heart sinks as I follow his gaze to Adam and back again. “You have to choose. Him,” he snarls, thrusting a hand toward Adam. “Or me.”

  “Andddd, that’s my cue.” Jess stands, throwing her napkin down and waving her hands. “You guys can have your pissing match. I’m going to get a cheeseburger.”

  But I can’t even ask her to stay, or tell her I’m sorry, or do anything other than stare blankly up at Grayson, wondering what the hell is going on.

  “Grayson—”

  “No,” he clips, jaw set. “No, I’m serious. I can’t just fucking sit here while he drools over you from across the table.”

  “Maybe I should leave,” Adam tries, placing his hands on the table to stand.

  “Sit the fuck down,” Grayson growls at him, turning to me next. “This is getting settled. Tonight. I thought I could deal with you guys being friends, but his lack of respect for our relationship isn’t going to make that possible. I don’t want you around him, Cassie,” he says, the sentence like a punctuation. He’s like an alien in this moment, a foreigner I don’t recognize.

  “Please,” I whisper, reaching for his hand, but he jerks it away.

  “Don’t want her around me?” Adam sneers, chair flying behind him as he stands to match Grayson’s stance. “I was her friend before she even knew you existed.”

  Grayson scoffs. “Friend, my ass.”

  “Guys, please.” My voice is so small compared to theirs, like a bird chirp competing with a train horn.

  “Sounds like someone’s threatened,” Adam shoots back. “Don’t worry, Grayson. Can’t steal a girl who doesn’t want to be stolen. You should be fine, since you spend so much time with her and really make her a priority in your life.”

  “Not helping, Adam!” I shout as Grayson beats his fists on the table.

  “Enough!” he growls, turning to me with wild eyes. “Do you love me?”

  My voice cracks, throat thick with an unswallowable knot. “Of course.”

  “I’m about to walk out that door.” He thrusts his finger toward the back door, the one Skyler and Clinton both blew out of earlier. “And if you love me like you say you do, you’ll come with me.”

  He glares at Adam once more before doing exactly as he said he would. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t wait for me to come, just plows through the door, letting in the last sliver of fading sunlight before it shuts again, leaving Adam and me alone.

  I don’t know how much time passes, how many times my heart beats and breaks before I look up from my hands at him. Seconds stretch into years, years reduced to just seconds as I watch one of my best friends try not to fall apart. The skin is stretched tight over his jaw, his eyes hard on the door, fists clenched at his side.

  “Adam,” I whisper, throat raw.

  “Just go.”

  My eyes flood with tears, Adam’s face blurring as my heart splits in two, one jagged half breaking away from the other. “Please,” I beg. “Look at me.”

  “What?” he snaps, tearing his eyes from the door to find mine. His chest is heaving, nose flaring. “You love him, right? So, go.”

  I choke on a sob, tears spilling down my cheeks like boiling hot water, and I feel every scar they leave behind. “I don’t want it to be this way.”

  “Well, it is.” His voice breaks but he clenches his jaw against it. “Go, Cassie.”

  I cry harder, shaking my head.

  “Go!”

  Ripping myself from the chair, I try to ignore the pain in his voice as I turn my back on him, following Grayson out the back door. Something crashes to the floor behind me just before the door shuts, but I don’t look back. My arms crossed tight over my middle, I close my eyes, shuddering on a breath that burns with unfair reality more than it heals with oxygen.

  I spot Grayson across the street, seated on a bench outside the Communications building. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees me, standing, knowing then that I loved him enough to do as he asked. But with every step toward him, I hate myself more.

  How long did I really expect it to last? How long could I expect Grayson to understand, knowing the way Adam feels… the way I feel?

  It’s not unfair, what Grayson’s asking. It’s not unfair of him to feel the way he feels. But I still hate it all the same.

  Because Adam was right — I didn’t lie. I do love Grayson.

  But my heart still splits in two, because the words I didn’t say before I let him believe I chose another man over him will forever haunt me.

  I do love him, but I love you
, too.

  BY THE TIME I MAKE it to Ralph’s and see how completely dead it is inside, the fire I had in my belly when I stormed out of the KKB house is all but ash. Suddenly it doesn’t seem like a brilliant idea to push Jarrett’s buttons, and seeing as how there are only three other small groups of people in the bar other than myself, there aren’t exactly a lot of options for pawns in my game.

  There’s a small group of girls, all giggling and playing pool, having their version of a Friendsgiving, I assume. I recognize Landon, the guy Erin had a fling with last year, in the corner with some of his buddies. He’s off limits since he was with Erin, but even more so, the guy gives me the creeps. Other than that, I don’t see anyone standing out.

  Maybe it’s because none of the guys, no matter how hot they are, hold a candle to Jarrett.

  Sighing, I order a vodka tonic and drop my phone onto the bar top in front of me, dropping my head into my hands with my eyes still on it, willing it to ring.

  Jarrett hasn’t talked to me since our fight on Monday.

  He has a right to be pissed, and I’m fully prepared to apologize, but I also won’t deny that I’m a little disappointed he hasn’t apologized yet, either. And now, a little after seven on Thanksgiving, he’s still yet to call me. Or answer my call.

  The bartender is a slight little thing that I assume to be my age, probably staying around campus just because someone has to serve the poor suckers like me who stumble in here on a holiday weekend. She pops my drink down in front of me and then kicks back against the register at the other end of the bar, texting away on her phone with a giant grin. She looks like she’s texting someone she cares about, someone who cares about her. I know that goofy grin.

  I used to wear it.

  Twirling the ice in my glass with the plastic stirrer, I keep my eyes on my phone, pushing the home button every now and then just to make sure I didn’t somehow miss a text. I’m so focused on my pathetic pity party that I don’t even notice the guy who sits down next to me until he speaks.

  “You know, I’ve tried that method,” he says, breaking my daze. I glance over at him, eyes widening at the bright, boy-next-door smile I find there.

  “Excuse me?”

  He nods toward my phone on the bar. “The whole stare at it until it does something method. I’ve tried it. Usually leads to sucking down booze like water and drunk texting someone I know I shouldn’t.”

  For the first time tonight, a tiny smile breaks on my face, and I don’t even hide it as I take the time to check this guy out. The first thing I notice is his smile — I have never been so attracted to someone’s teeth before. They’re bright white and perfectly straight, like a dentist commercial, and one little dimple pops on his left cheek when that smile reaches its full wattage. All his features are dark — the jet-black mop of hair on his head, the deep brown of his eyes, the glorious tan skin stretched out over the amazing muscles on his arms, the perfect-length stubble on his jaw. This guy is the definition of tall, dark, and handsome — and suddenly, my game face is back on.

  “Maybe I want to send drunk texts.”

  He laughs. “No, you don’t. No one wakes up the morning after sending five unanswered texts in a row happy about it.”

  This time it’s him who lets his eyes wander, and though it feels nice to be devoured by his eyes, it doesn’t change the fact that he isn’t Jarrett. Every guy just seems so… blah, compared to Jarrett. He’s ruined me.

  “I’m Jess,” I say when his eyes finally reach mine again.

  “Greg. You’re in Kappa Kappa Beta, right?” He motions for the bartender, holding up his empty beer bottle before turning to face me again.

  “I am. Are you Greek?”

  “Omega Chi Beta.”

  “Oh, shit, the probation boys,” I tease. “I have a really good friend in your fraternity — Bear. Although, he’s kind of pissing me off currently.”

  Greg rolls his eyes. “He’s been pissing pretty much everyone off since the beginning of the semester. I think he’s just taking the probation thing hard. He’s helped us a lot, though. There were still a lot of brothers being stupid after the meeting with nationals — me included — but he reminded us what’s at stake. Still,” he adds, tipping his new beer toward the bartender before taking a long pull. “His attitude is a lot to handle.”

  “I think he and Skyler got into some kind of fight, but neither one of them is saying why.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me. Those two are pretty tight, even if they aren’t getting along right now.” His lips find his bottle again, eyes still on me. “Anyway, enough about them. Tell me about you. Any particular reason you’re in Ralph’s on Thanksgiving instead of home with family?”

  “Ugh,” I stick the plastic stirrer in my drink like a dagger, fishing out an ice cube before popping it in my mouth. “That’s a long story. You should probably answer that question first.”

  “My parents took a cruise for the holiday,” he answers easily. “So, I stayed here to party with a few brothers. But if I had to guess by the way you’re watching your phone, your reason involves a guy, doesn’t it?”

  I chew my ice cube. “Maybe.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  I pause mid-crunch, swirling the cold remains of the cube with my tongue as I debate how to answer. I could easily lie, play the game I was set on playing when I walked in the door, but suddenly it all feels stupid. So, I just answer with a nod.

  “Ah, figures,” he says, a defeated smile on his face as he peels the label off his beer bottle. “Doesn’t make sense for a girl who looks like you to be single.”

  “You’re sweet.” I watch him for a moment, waiting for him to make some excuse to walk away. “Guess now that you know I have a boyfriend, in your mind I’ve practically sprouted three heads and a dick now, huh?”

  He chokes on a laugh, that damn dimple making an appearance again. “Not at all. I was actually going to ask if you would still be okay with a little company tonight. You can talk to me about him, if you want,” he offers with a shrug. “Or, I can talk your ear off with turtle facts.”

  This time it’s me who nearly chokes. “I’m sorry?”

  “Biology major,” he answers. “I’m doing a marine mammal and sea turtle rescue internship next summer, so I’ve been studying, upping my turtle game.”

  I laugh, finally feeling marginally better and oddly thankful that Greg wandered into Ralph’s tonight. “Okay, you have my attention. Hit me with a turtle fact.”

  And, so he does. For the rest of the night, we make easy conversation, first with his hilarious but fascinating knowledge of sea turtles and eventually we end up talking about our families, our majors, our love for pizza, our favorite songs and movies. I lose count of how many drinks we both have as well as how many laughs we share. All I know is that it feels good to sit in a bar with an attractive boy who can’t stop staring at me but is respectful enough not to make any moves since I have a boyfriend. It’s refreshing, and maybe some attention was all I needed, after all.

  A loud commotion breaks the spell Greg has me under somewhere around midnight. We eye each other cautiously before abandoning our drinks at the bar and rushing outside. Landon is cursing and screaming, his buddies all gathered around him trying to calm him down. When Greg and I step around the first row of cars in the parking lot, we see why.

  “Oh, my God.” I cover my mouth, trying to hide my smile and fight down the laugh I feel coming on.

  “WHOEVER DID THIS IS DEAD, DO YOU HEAR ME?!” Landon screams, grabbing his friend’s beer bottle and hurling it across the parking lot. It hits the brick wall of Ralph’s and shatters, splinters of glass raining down on the sidewalk like a parade in his honor. “DEAD.”

  “I wish I would have grabbed my phone off the bar,” I say to Greg, eyes wandering over Landon’s car. “I so need a picture of this.”

  “Something tells me you’ll see one on social media in about two minutes,” he says, nodding to the group of girls who were playing pool earli
er. They all have their phones out, giggling and snapping pictures before Landon sees them and roars for them to put their phones away. I can’t blame him for being mad, but even more than that, I want to know the genius behind the prank.

  His entire car is covered in dildos.

  And not just any kind of dildo — tiny, micro-penis dildos, all Saran Wrapped to his hood, his doors, the roof, the windows. It’s impossible to even get inside the car without breaking through the cellophane first, and thus breaking loose at least a hundred tiny, rubber dicks. The tires are shredded, the windshield busted, and nearly all the paint has been keyed up. And to top it all off? There’s a message, loud and clear, written in bright red paint on the hood.

  Now the outside matches the inside. Go fuck yourself.

  I’m still laughing when the police show up and Greg and I dip back inside Ralph’s, finding our place back at the bar and slipping easily back into the conversation we were holding before. The night is turning out to be much better than it started.

  “We should take a picture,” he says about an hour after the dildo commotion, smacking his palms on the bar. “To commemorate one of the best Thanksgivings I’ve had in a long time.”

  I chuckle. “A Turkey Day selfie, huh?”

  “Absolutely.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, flipping the camera to face us before reaching down and grabbing the edge of my barstool. He pulls me closer to him, hand finding the small of my back as he holds the phone up. “Say turtle.”

  I laugh, and he snaps the picture with my hand on his chest, my eyes staring up at him, mid-laugh. His smile is wide and lazy, both of us clearly a little intoxicated, but as we both look the picture over, I can’t help but think we look cute together.

  “Are you allowed to be here?” he asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was going to post it,” he says, nodding toward the picture. My barstool is still touching his, our bodies brushing. “Can I tag you?”

  It’s funny, how the exact thing I was going to do — the mission I had been on — ended up happening even after I’d dropped the notion. I had my goal set on coming in here and finding some poor sap to use to make Jarrett jealous, but I’d gotten so caught up just having fun with Greg, I’d dropped the initial thought.